I read Keep Going, the latest book about creativity from Austin Kleon (the writer of Steal Like an Artist, which is a favorite of mine). This one was mostly focused on what to do when you feel stuck or uninspired.
My favorite and the most useful point I found was that productivity is not the same as creativity. To be productive, sometimes you need to lock yourself away from all distractions and get things done. To be creative, you need to go for a long walk, or take a nap, or go to a museum, or read a magazine. It doesn't look like you're being productive, because you aren't. So often, I hear that "thinking about writing is not the same as writing," so it was refreshing to hear the same advice, but put in a different light. You need time to be creative. You need time to be productive. Acknowledging that and separating those into what I'll now forever call "productive time" and "creative time" is going to be wildly helpful.
On the whole though, this book resonated much less with me than the others. Maybe it was the content, but I suspect it was the tone. In this one, Kleon cites other people and then calls them out for being wrong. For example, there are four shots fired at Marie Kondo. I don't think any of them are necessary when he could have just jumped to his point that a messy studio helps him be creative by allowing him to see some materials next to other materials that never would have gone together if they were never thrown into a pile on the floor. That's an interesting point. But framing it as "the lady who helped you get all your son's Legos in one place so you would stop crying and feeling claustrophobic is WRONG! I scoff that your kitchen brings you joy!" is off putting. I don't remember the previous books trying to be inspiring and uplifting by putting down other advice, but maybe I'm just not remembering it.
Showing posts with label If you don't have time to read. Show all posts
Showing posts with label If you don't have time to read. Show all posts
August 6, 2019
March 21, 2019
I read The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle
This week's novel is The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle, weird time travel by Stuart Turton.
Our narrator wakes up with amnesia, outside a dilapidated estate, convinced he just witnessed a murder. Over the course of the day, he learns that all the guests are gathered at the house for a big masquerade ball that night, no one wants to be there, and everyone has secrets. At the end of the evening, he goes to sleep, wakes up, and he's in a the body of a different person, reliving the same day again. He has eight days to solve the murder of Evelyn Hardcastle, and eight hosts from around the estate to help him get different angles on the mystery.
This book must have been such a pain to write. It's a big tangle of continuity, which can be altered from day to day if the narrator can manage it, but the problem with that is that if he alters it too much, he won't be in the right place to make things happen for his other hosts. Mysteries pop up and then get solved three days later, and then they turn out to be unrelated to the murder of Evelyn Hardcastle--even though they often solve a different murder. (So many people are murdered in this book.)
Maybe it was because I was in the midst of trying to tie together all the loose ends in my own novel, and trying to keep track of a million tiny threads, but I could not stop thinking about the process that must have been involved to write this. My novel had multiple charts of what everyone was up to from one day to the next. This must have had an Excel spreadsheet and a cork board with strings connections.
I got to wondering if it was good to see the evidence of that process, to see the hand of the author. It's kind of fun to think about, but it also causes me to feel pity and low level anxiety thinking about what he had to go through. Maybe this is not a problem other people have or that even I would have if I'd read this a month later. And the book was still exciting, and it was fun to play along with the mystery and fun to bask in the time loop.
Our narrator wakes up with amnesia, outside a dilapidated estate, convinced he just witnessed a murder. Over the course of the day, he learns that all the guests are gathered at the house for a big masquerade ball that night, no one wants to be there, and everyone has secrets. At the end of the evening, he goes to sleep, wakes up, and he's in a the body of a different person, reliving the same day again. He has eight days to solve the murder of Evelyn Hardcastle, and eight hosts from around the estate to help him get different angles on the mystery.
This book must have been such a pain to write. It's a big tangle of continuity, which can be altered from day to day if the narrator can manage it, but the problem with that is that if he alters it too much, he won't be in the right place to make things happen for his other hosts. Mysteries pop up and then get solved three days later, and then they turn out to be unrelated to the murder of Evelyn Hardcastle--even though they often solve a different murder. (So many people are murdered in this book.)
Maybe it was because I was in the midst of trying to tie together all the loose ends in my own novel, and trying to keep track of a million tiny threads, but I could not stop thinking about the process that must have been involved to write this. My novel had multiple charts of what everyone was up to from one day to the next. This must have had an Excel spreadsheet and a cork board with strings connections.
I got to wondering if it was good to see the evidence of that process, to see the hand of the author. It's kind of fun to think about, but it also causes me to feel pity and low level anxiety thinking about what he had to go through. Maybe this is not a problem other people have or that even I would have if I'd read this a month later. And the book was still exciting, and it was fun to play along with the mystery and fun to bask in the time loop.
March 14, 2019
I read Spinning Silver
This week, I read Spinning Silver, the latest fantasy novel from Naomi Novik, who wrote the tremendous Uprooted.
Miryem's father is a money lender, who is so bad at collecting debts that his family lives in poverty. When Miryem takes over the family business and ends up doing a great job, she doesn't understand why her parents are so heartbroken when she can turn silver into gold--you know, figuratively. But the Styrk--winter monsters who hunt the forest--don't understand metaphors and set Miryem the task of turning a chest of silver into gold for them. Or else.
This story is told from the point of view of several people you meet throughout the story, mostly girls Miryem's age who bring the reader through several plot lines. it's a compelling story in terms of plot, but my favorite part was watching different characters deal with the same issues from different angles. Miryem is dedicated to making deals and following through on them, as are the Styrk. The Styrk make bargains and get offended if the bargain you offer doesn't seem fair, even though their sense of fairness seems unreasonable to humans. They make deals so they will never be in someone else's debt, so acts of kindness and thanking someone for following through on their part in a bargain are seen as offensive because these put them in your debt. So the way Miryem and the Styrk both make and handle bargains is interesting.
But even more interesting is when Wanda, who works at Miryem's house to pay off her father's debt and who has a terrible home life, also hates to accept acts of kindness. When Miryem's family offers her anything, she thinks this must put her further in their debt. She's surprisingly okay with being in their debt, because every day she spends at their house cleaning is a day that she's not at home. This interest in being in debt and the mistreatment she gets at home feeds into her misunderstanding of basic kindness. In this way she's like the Styrk too.
I also really like it that Miryem's family is Jewish. Even in this completely fictional world with magic and demons. They're not even a lightly veiled allegory for Jewish. No, they're straight up no work on shabbat, praying over challah, dealing with antisemitism Jewish. People give a lot of crap to second-world fantasy stories that hold on to aspects of our world, (Except the patriarchy. We have to keep the patriarchy or it wouldn't be realistic!) so including a real world religion is a bold move and an important move, and I love it.
Miryem's father is a money lender, who is so bad at collecting debts that his family lives in poverty. When Miryem takes over the family business and ends up doing a great job, she doesn't understand why her parents are so heartbroken when she can turn silver into gold--you know, figuratively. But the Styrk--winter monsters who hunt the forest--don't understand metaphors and set Miryem the task of turning a chest of silver into gold for them. Or else.
This story is told from the point of view of several people you meet throughout the story, mostly girls Miryem's age who bring the reader through several plot lines. it's a compelling story in terms of plot, but my favorite part was watching different characters deal with the same issues from different angles. Miryem is dedicated to making deals and following through on them, as are the Styrk. The Styrk make bargains and get offended if the bargain you offer doesn't seem fair, even though their sense of fairness seems unreasonable to humans. They make deals so they will never be in someone else's debt, so acts of kindness and thanking someone for following through on their part in a bargain are seen as offensive because these put them in your debt. So the way Miryem and the Styrk both make and handle bargains is interesting.
But even more interesting is when Wanda, who works at Miryem's house to pay off her father's debt and who has a terrible home life, also hates to accept acts of kindness. When Miryem's family offers her anything, she thinks this must put her further in their debt. She's surprisingly okay with being in their debt, because every day she spends at their house cleaning is a day that she's not at home. This interest in being in debt and the mistreatment she gets at home feeds into her misunderstanding of basic kindness. In this way she's like the Styrk too.
I also really like it that Miryem's family is Jewish. Even in this completely fictional world with magic and demons. They're not even a lightly veiled allegory for Jewish. No, they're straight up no work on shabbat, praying over challah, dealing with antisemitism Jewish. People give a lot of crap to second-world fantasy stories that hold on to aspects of our world, (Except the patriarchy. We have to keep the patriarchy or it wouldn't be realistic!) so including a real world religion is a bold move and an important move, and I love it.
February 28, 2019
I read Arm of the Sphinx
This week's novel is Arm of the Sphinx, the sequel to Senlin Ascends by Josiah Bancroft.
Senlin and his band of misfits have taken an airship and become mediocre pirates, who only take 10% of their victim's cargo, just enough for them to keep the ship serviced and the crew fed. They're trying to get to the ringdom (or level) of the Tower of Babel where Senlin's wife probably is, but since they're unable to go there directly, they attempt to get there from the abandoned, spider-filled forest of a ringdom above, which is now home to a small rebellion, trying to disrupt the tower.
This second book keeps going with the same level of wonders as the first book. Each new ringdom they visit continues to be novel and fascinating and frightening and strange. And even though previously visited ringdoms are spoken of as less marvelous, they're still plenty scary. The word hasn't gotten dull once it's better understood either by the characters or the reader.
For example: it turns out the painting from the first book is part of a set. This move could make the world feel smaller, since we now understand the mystery of that component, and instead of one part being a huge ordeal, now a larger whole is the same level of huge ordeal. But instead, the set of paintings is really cool, and although this revelation that it's part of a set ties up mysteries from the first book, it presents its own set of mysteries and promises new, diverse adventures.
What did change between this book and the last was that the point of view was expanded from just Senlin to the whole crew. I was surprised by this move at the beginning, but by the end, I was so invested in all the characters that I wanted to hear what they were up to and what they thought of everything. Most of these characters are women, which I bring up because for a series that started from the 3rd person limited view of a middle-aged white dude, expanding it out to include mostly women is pretty neat. It's also neat that the three main women are so different from each other, while all being flawed in different ways and sympathetic in different ways. This should be the norm, but I'm still pleased.
I especially love Edith. I want more books about Edith.
Senlin and his band of misfits have taken an airship and become mediocre pirates, who only take 10% of their victim's cargo, just enough for them to keep the ship serviced and the crew fed. They're trying to get to the ringdom (or level) of the Tower of Babel where Senlin's wife probably is, but since they're unable to go there directly, they attempt to get there from the abandoned, spider-filled forest of a ringdom above, which is now home to a small rebellion, trying to disrupt the tower.
This second book keeps going with the same level of wonders as the first book. Each new ringdom they visit continues to be novel and fascinating and frightening and strange. And even though previously visited ringdoms are spoken of as less marvelous, they're still plenty scary. The word hasn't gotten dull once it's better understood either by the characters or the reader.
For example: it turns out the painting from the first book is part of a set. This move could make the world feel smaller, since we now understand the mystery of that component, and instead of one part being a huge ordeal, now a larger whole is the same level of huge ordeal. But instead, the set of paintings is really cool, and although this revelation that it's part of a set ties up mysteries from the first book, it presents its own set of mysteries and promises new, diverse adventures.
What did change between this book and the last was that the point of view was expanded from just Senlin to the whole crew. I was surprised by this move at the beginning, but by the end, I was so invested in all the characters that I wanted to hear what they were up to and what they thought of everything. Most of these characters are women, which I bring up because for a series that started from the 3rd person limited view of a middle-aged white dude, expanding it out to include mostly women is pretty neat. It's also neat that the three main women are so different from each other, while all being flawed in different ways and sympathetic in different ways. This should be the norm, but I'm still pleased.
I especially love Edith. I want more books about Edith.
February 21, 2019
I read The Sun is Also a Star
This week's novel is The Sun is Also a Star, contemporary YA by Nicola Yoon. This one was a Goodreads Choice nominee for YA fiction in 2016, and it's been sitting on my to-read list for a while.
Natasha is into science and facts, and she's going to be deported back to Jamaica this evening. Daniel believes in fate and poetry, but his Korean parents want him to go to Yale and be a doctor or else. Daniel believes fate introduced him to Natasha, and Natasha does not have time to fall in love because she has twelve hours to figure out how to stay in the country.
The thing that grabbed me most about this book was how Natasha loves science. She loves talking about stars and parallel universes and black holes. She's into the flashy, fun stuff that high school science nerds love. She's into the stuff that entices you in: the beautiful false-color pictures of nebulae and looking smart while you explain everything you know about quarks. I relate so hard to where she is in her relationship with science--the shiny honeymoon phase. She hasn't figured out that there's a disconnect between what makes kids into science and the daily work of scientists. Natasha talks about how she wants to be a data scientist because it's practical, but I bet she has not yet run a single Monte Carlo simulation. She probably thinks Schrodinger's equation looks "elegant" and hasn't had to actually crank out those integrals yet. Not that Monte Carlos aren't great, they're just disconnected from the stuff NASA PR shows to get people excited about space. This part of Natasha felt real, and it made me nostalgic.
The way the book is structured is also pretty neat. The chapters are all very short, usually less that three pages. Mostly they alternate between Natasha's POV and Daniel's POV. But then it will mix it up with a 3rd person essay about the history of how black hair-care stores came to be owned mostly by Koreans or the etymology of the word "irie." These widen the story up to give some context, to make the story broader, but, partitioned off in their own short chapters, they never feel like info dumps. Also, every so often, there will be a chapter from a side character's POV. At one point, early in the story, Natasha is nearly hit by a car. The next chapter is from the driver's POV and explains why he was driving recklessly. It's not given as an excuse, but as an explanation. Every seemingly insignificant character who affects Natasha or Daniel's lives have lives of their own that they don't guess or even think about.
These do a lot of work to point out that no one is putting themselves in each other's shoes. No one is thinking about what Natasha's going through. No one's thinking that maybe the security guard is having a bad day. When these chapters pop up, it's always a little jarring. Wait, that guy has a backstory?
But it also it works with the theme of destiny and a million tiny variables working to bring Natasha and Daniel together. Daniel goes on about fate a lot, much to Natasha's annoyance, and Natasha talks about how the variables are all chance. These side chapters don't really answer which one of them is right, but they could be used as evidence for both of them. They met because she was nearly hit by a car, because the driver was drinking, because his teenage daughter died.
Natasha is into science and facts, and she's going to be deported back to Jamaica this evening. Daniel believes in fate and poetry, but his Korean parents want him to go to Yale and be a doctor or else. Daniel believes fate introduced him to Natasha, and Natasha does not have time to fall in love because she has twelve hours to figure out how to stay in the country.
The thing that grabbed me most about this book was how Natasha loves science. She loves talking about stars and parallel universes and black holes. She's into the flashy, fun stuff that high school science nerds love. She's into the stuff that entices you in: the beautiful false-color pictures of nebulae and looking smart while you explain everything you know about quarks. I relate so hard to where she is in her relationship with science--the shiny honeymoon phase. She hasn't figured out that there's a disconnect between what makes kids into science and the daily work of scientists. Natasha talks about how she wants to be a data scientist because it's practical, but I bet she has not yet run a single Monte Carlo simulation. She probably thinks Schrodinger's equation looks "elegant" and hasn't had to actually crank out those integrals yet. Not that Monte Carlos aren't great, they're just disconnected from the stuff NASA PR shows to get people excited about space. This part of Natasha felt real, and it made me nostalgic.
The way the book is structured is also pretty neat. The chapters are all very short, usually less that three pages. Mostly they alternate between Natasha's POV and Daniel's POV. But then it will mix it up with a 3rd person essay about the history of how black hair-care stores came to be owned mostly by Koreans or the etymology of the word "irie." These widen the story up to give some context, to make the story broader, but, partitioned off in their own short chapters, they never feel like info dumps. Also, every so often, there will be a chapter from a side character's POV. At one point, early in the story, Natasha is nearly hit by a car. The next chapter is from the driver's POV and explains why he was driving recklessly. It's not given as an excuse, but as an explanation. Every seemingly insignificant character who affects Natasha or Daniel's lives have lives of their own that they don't guess or even think about.
These do a lot of work to point out that no one is putting themselves in each other's shoes. No one is thinking about what Natasha's going through. No one's thinking that maybe the security guard is having a bad day. When these chapters pop up, it's always a little jarring. Wait, that guy has a backstory?
But it also it works with the theme of destiny and a million tiny variables working to bring Natasha and Daniel together. Daniel goes on about fate a lot, much to Natasha's annoyance, and Natasha talks about how the variables are all chance. These side chapters don't really answer which one of them is right, but they could be used as evidence for both of them. They met because she was nearly hit by a car, because the driver was drinking, because his teenage daughter died.
February 14, 2019
I read Cuckoo Song
This week's novel is Cuckoo Song, YA fantasy by Frances Hardinge. I'm a Hardinge fan (The Lie Tree, Face Like Glass), and I'm slowly working through her novels.
Triss wakes up after falling into a river with most of her memories missing. Her parents assure her that she's just a sickly person and she'll be well again if she just rests, but she's also overwhelmed by hunger that has her eating all of the food in the house and then rotten apples off the ground and then inanimate objects. She's also seeing things as all her dolls come to life and try to stab her. Her angry and terrified sister is convinced that she's not the real Triss, a prospect that grows more concerning as it becomes more certain.
I really liked the family dynamics in this book. Triss's older brother died in the war, and her parents have reacted to their grief and helplessness in how they treat their two daughters: protective and infantilizing, but also dismissive and blaming. The reader gets a sense of what's happening and that the brother's death is the epicenter of the family well before Triss is able to articulate it. Sometimes being that far ahead of the characters can feel irritating, as if the characters are too stupid. But here it made sense that Triss wouldn't be able to see the relationships from inside it, and it made sense that as she distanced herself from her family, she was able to see them clearly. There's also a cathartic moment (which is a theme in Hardinge's work) where Triss is able to articulate not just that it's happening, but also that it's wrong.
This is a book about fairies, and it uses fairy tropes and conventions, which you may know is usually not something I enjoy. But this story never assumes that I have prior knowledge of fairies or how their society works or all the tricks to dealing with them. It never names them as such, and the reader learns about them as Triss learns about them, so we have a nice gateway into things being explained. It's gotten me thinking that sometimes I bounce off a story about fairies because there is so much lore around them and creatures like them, lore from from different countries and different eras, and there's not a "standard" set of rules. There are overlapping rules and stories that contradict each other and stories that don't fit together. It's what I love about folklore: the many iterations and metamorphoses. So any story that assumes I'm familiar with just one set of fairy tropes and that I'll know where the boundaries are between true-in-this-story and not-true-in-this-story without it being spelled out is making a pretty big assumption about the folklore I've been exposed to. And that assumption shows that either they haven't done their research to know there's more to fairies, or they're assuming that, well, of course everyone will assume this is the Gaelic version. And then if you want to get silly, it's also making an implicit statement about what's a "real" fairy, which is kind of ridiculous. These are issues you have to navigate if you deal with any kind of folklore, it's just that fairies have a big, sprawling history that make them more difficult to navigate than some other monsters.
Triss wakes up after falling into a river with most of her memories missing. Her parents assure her that she's just a sickly person and she'll be well again if she just rests, but she's also overwhelmed by hunger that has her eating all of the food in the house and then rotten apples off the ground and then inanimate objects. She's also seeing things as all her dolls come to life and try to stab her. Her angry and terrified sister is convinced that she's not the real Triss, a prospect that grows more concerning as it becomes more certain.
I really liked the family dynamics in this book. Triss's older brother died in the war, and her parents have reacted to their grief and helplessness in how they treat their two daughters: protective and infantilizing, but also dismissive and blaming. The reader gets a sense of what's happening and that the brother's death is the epicenter of the family well before Triss is able to articulate it. Sometimes being that far ahead of the characters can feel irritating, as if the characters are too stupid. But here it made sense that Triss wouldn't be able to see the relationships from inside it, and it made sense that as she distanced herself from her family, she was able to see them clearly. There's also a cathartic moment (which is a theme in Hardinge's work) where Triss is able to articulate not just that it's happening, but also that it's wrong.
This is a book about fairies, and it uses fairy tropes and conventions, which you may know is usually not something I enjoy. But this story never assumes that I have prior knowledge of fairies or how their society works or all the tricks to dealing with them. It never names them as such, and the reader learns about them as Triss learns about them, so we have a nice gateway into things being explained. It's gotten me thinking that sometimes I bounce off a story about fairies because there is so much lore around them and creatures like them, lore from from different countries and different eras, and there's not a "standard" set of rules. There are overlapping rules and stories that contradict each other and stories that don't fit together. It's what I love about folklore: the many iterations and metamorphoses. So any story that assumes I'm familiar with just one set of fairy tropes and that I'll know where the boundaries are between true-in-this-story and not-true-in-this-story without it being spelled out is making a pretty big assumption about the folklore I've been exposed to. And that assumption shows that either they haven't done their research to know there's more to fairies, or they're assuming that, well, of course everyone will assume this is the Gaelic version. And then if you want to get silly, it's also making an implicit statement about what's a "real" fairy, which is kind of ridiculous. These are issues you have to navigate if you deal with any kind of folklore, it's just that fairies have a big, sprawling history that make them more difficult to navigate than some other monsters.
February 7, 2019
I read Senlin Ascends
This week's novel is Senlin Ascends, fantasy by Josiah Bancroft.
Senlin and his wife, Marya, travel on their honeymoon to the Towel of Babel, an engineering marvel and center for culture and advancement. No one knows how many levels there are, stacked on top of each other, and each level is like its own kingdom. They've heard stories about the marvels of the tower all their lives. However, when they get there they find that it's full of miscreants and con-artists, tyrants and systems designed to entrap you. Also as soon as they get there, Marya and Senlin get separated, and Senlin must make his way up to tower to find her.
The thing I liked most about this one was how Senlin's bright eyed expectations and the realities were juxtaposed. Each chapter starts with an excerpt from Senlin's guidebook, which makes the tower sound fun and quirky. But then once you get into the chapter, the tower turns out to be terrifying. For example, there's a marketplace at the base of the tower, and the book describes it as a place where you can buy all sorts of exotic wonders and have fun haggling. In fact, it's a maze that changes every day, chunks from the sides of the tower fall and smoosh people, airships fall from the sky and are then scavenged for parts, and then there are the pickpockets and thefts and kidnappings. People walk around tied together with rope so they don't get separated.
I liked how in the beginning, Senlin clings to the guidebook and his belief in the stories that the Tower is amazing. He thinks maybe he's just had some bad luck or that the tower will get better as he goes along. But over time he realizes that the guidebook, his ideas, and he himself are wrong, and he has to come to grips with that. And it's neat how his distancing himself is paralleled with how ridiculous the guidebook's bad advice and uninformed descriptions at the beginning of the chapters sound, as the reader sees that it's more and more out of touch with reality.
I enjoyed it a lot. The worldbuilding is atmospheric and pervasive. And each new level of the Tower is new and interesting and refreshing as he travels, without feeling jarring. They fit together in nice ways and there's always some consistency around to hold the book together.
January 31, 2019
I read You're Welcome, Universe
This week's novel is You're Welcome, Universe, contemporary YA by Whitney Gardner.
Julia finds a slur about her best friend written on the school wall, and she covers it up with a graffiti mural. When her best friend snitches, Julia gets kicked out of Kingston School for the Deaf and has to go to a mainstream school, where she is the only Deaf kid. She tries to get through it by putting up street art by her new school, but soon she finds that someone is adding to her murals, showing her up.
I loved this book. It's just great.
I liked how being Deaf was a fundamental part of Julia's character. She talks about how useless music is, and she points out all the micro-aggressions she faces. Dialogue has words blanked out when she's not able to read people's lips. She critiques people's Sign Language grammar, and her own written English grammar is so bad/she doesn't try in English class that they put her in an ESL class. I felt like I was learning something, and after looking at some reviews, it seems to be an accurate portrayal of being Deaf.
At the same time, I felt like I was learning just as much about street art. She talks about making and using stencils, about picking colors, about picking a place to put up a mural and how she moves quickly and unnoticed. Her terminology and slang usage make her sound just as much of an expert on art as she is on being Deaf. And I think that's where the real magic of this book is. It's not educating me about deafness, it's showing me a person who is an expert in many things that I don't know enough about. I was excited to read about all the parts of her personality, and in that way her deafness wasn't romanticized, exploitative or turned into a very special episode.
Add to it that Julia was not a model minority. She held grudges and didn't forgive easily. She's rude because she worries about making friends. She's a really well rounded character, and it was fun to spend time with her, even when she was being unreasonable.
Julia finds a slur about her best friend written on the school wall, and she covers it up with a graffiti mural. When her best friend snitches, Julia gets kicked out of Kingston School for the Deaf and has to go to a mainstream school, where she is the only Deaf kid. She tries to get through it by putting up street art by her new school, but soon she finds that someone is adding to her murals, showing her up.
I loved this book. It's just great.
I liked how being Deaf was a fundamental part of Julia's character. She talks about how useless music is, and she points out all the micro-aggressions she faces. Dialogue has words blanked out when she's not able to read people's lips. She critiques people's Sign Language grammar, and her own written English grammar is so bad/she doesn't try in English class that they put her in an ESL class. I felt like I was learning something, and after looking at some reviews, it seems to be an accurate portrayal of being Deaf.
At the same time, I felt like I was learning just as much about street art. She talks about making and using stencils, about picking colors, about picking a place to put up a mural and how she moves quickly and unnoticed. Her terminology and slang usage make her sound just as much of an expert on art as she is on being Deaf. And I think that's where the real magic of this book is. It's not educating me about deafness, it's showing me a person who is an expert in many things that I don't know enough about. I was excited to read about all the parts of her personality, and in that way her deafness wasn't romanticized, exploitative or turned into a very special episode.
Add to it that Julia was not a model minority. She held grudges and didn't forgive easily. She's rude because she worries about making friends. She's a really well rounded character, and it was fun to spend time with her, even when she was being unreasonable.
January 24, 2019
I read Save the Date
This week's novel is Save the Date, Contemporary YA by Morgan Matson.
Charlie's sister is getting married this weekend, and all four of Charlie's siblings will be home for the event, which is taking place in the backyard of their childhood home before their parents sell it. Meanwhile, Charlie's mom's wildly popular and long running comic strip, which focuses on their family is coming to an end the same weekend, and they're all going to be on Good Morning America the day after the wedding. Also meanwhile, it turns out the wedding planner embezzled a lot of money, messed up reservations, and then skipped town, so everything is a mess. Charlie is going to do her darnedest to fix it all and give the family the best weekend ever.
I found this book frustratingly slow. In a book full of wedding high jinks and family drama explosions, it should not have dragged.
But lets focus on the positive: this had fantastic dialogue. The family is huge, and add to that when fiances and girlfriends and the substitute wedding planner and neighbors and extended family wander in. Everyone's voice is distinctive, which is impressive with such a large cast, and helps the crowd scenes make sense. Parts are honestly funny. One of the brothers brings a girlfriend without telling anyone that he was going to, and every time she enters the conversation, it throws off the beat that the rest of the family has established. This means that Matson was able to set up a rhythm to her dialogue, and break it apart with a pin-pointed strike. I was also impressed with one brother who shouts random jokes in the middle of conversations, and yet the rest of the family keeps talking around them. His interruptions did not disturb the flow, and I was able to follow along.
Very cool. Really well done.
Charlie's sister is getting married this weekend, and all four of Charlie's siblings will be home for the event, which is taking place in the backyard of their childhood home before their parents sell it. Meanwhile, Charlie's mom's wildly popular and long running comic strip, which focuses on their family is coming to an end the same weekend, and they're all going to be on Good Morning America the day after the wedding. Also meanwhile, it turns out the wedding planner embezzled a lot of money, messed up reservations, and then skipped town, so everything is a mess. Charlie is going to do her darnedest to fix it all and give the family the best weekend ever.
I found this book frustratingly slow. In a book full of wedding high jinks and family drama explosions, it should not have dragged.
But lets focus on the positive: this had fantastic dialogue. The family is huge, and add to that when fiances and girlfriends and the substitute wedding planner and neighbors and extended family wander in. Everyone's voice is distinctive, which is impressive with such a large cast, and helps the crowd scenes make sense. Parts are honestly funny. One of the brothers brings a girlfriend without telling anyone that he was going to, and every time she enters the conversation, it throws off the beat that the rest of the family has established. This means that Matson was able to set up a rhythm to her dialogue, and break it apart with a pin-pointed strike. I was also impressed with one brother who shouts random jokes in the middle of conversations, and yet the rest of the family keeps talking around them. His interruptions did not disturb the flow, and I was able to follow along.
Very cool. Really well done.
January 17, 2019
I read Emergency Contact
This week's novel is Emergency Contact, Contemporary YA by Mary H.K. Choi.
Penny starts college at UT Austin, eager to get away from her over-excited mom. Sam is a baker at a coffee house, who is not handling his girlfriend dumping him, and is especially not handling it when she announces that she's pregnant. When he has a panic attack on the street, Penny--an expert on panic attacks--helps him home. She demands text updates about how he's doing, and calls herself his emergency contact. They start a friendship via text that they both desperately need.
I read this one because it's set in Austin. Not only do I love to see things that acknowledge Austin, but I'm writing a novel set in Austin and I like to see how other people do it. I was pleased with the way it captured parts of the city. Aside from name dropping sometimes, there are paragraphs that work to give a sense of the setting. They're generally short and scattered chapters apart, and what I found interesting was that instead of relying on description, they dealt more with how the characters felt.
"That fateful morning she'd told him she wanted to go to the breakfast taco spot before work. The not-that-good spot on Manor that charged extra for pico de gallo."
I don't know exactly which place they're talking about, but at the same time I do. Choi gets it. Some facts are wrong, showing the author's age and the part of town in which she grew up, but it was more accurate than not.
This brings me to the main aspect of the book that stood out for me. The characters describe people they meet and places they go and food they eat in unflattering terms. They're vivid and stick with you. And at the same time, they tell so much about the POV characters who are describing them. These characters find the worst in things, and you can tell that from the way they describe their tortilla chips.
Penny starts college at UT Austin, eager to get away from her over-excited mom. Sam is a baker at a coffee house, who is not handling his girlfriend dumping him, and is especially not handling it when she announces that she's pregnant. When he has a panic attack on the street, Penny--an expert on panic attacks--helps him home. She demands text updates about how he's doing, and calls herself his emergency contact. They start a friendship via text that they both desperately need.
I read this one because it's set in Austin. Not only do I love to see things that acknowledge Austin, but I'm writing a novel set in Austin and I like to see how other people do it. I was pleased with the way it captured parts of the city. Aside from name dropping sometimes, there are paragraphs that work to give a sense of the setting. They're generally short and scattered chapters apart, and what I found interesting was that instead of relying on description, they dealt more with how the characters felt.
"That fateful morning she'd told him she wanted to go to the breakfast taco spot before work. The not-that-good spot on Manor that charged extra for pico de gallo."
I don't know exactly which place they're talking about, but at the same time I do. Choi gets it. Some facts are wrong, showing the author's age and the part of town in which she grew up, but it was more accurate than not.
This brings me to the main aspect of the book that stood out for me. The characters describe people they meet and places they go and food they eat in unflattering terms. They're vivid and stick with you. And at the same time, they tell so much about the POV characters who are describing them. These characters find the worst in things, and you can tell that from the way they describe their tortilla chips.
January 10, 2019
I Read Wild Beauty
Several weeks ago, I read Wild Beauty, YA fantasy by Anna-Marie McLemore.
For generations, the Nomeolvides girls (5 girls in each generation) have tended the garden of La Pradera with their magical abilities to grow flowers. The Nomeolvides are cursed to never leave La Pradera and to have everyone they love vanish. When all five girls realize they're in love with the same girl, they know that their love will kill her, and they offer sacrifices of beloved objects to La Pradera, praying for her safety. In return, La Pradera returns a mysterious boy to them from the dirt, a boy with no memory of where he came from.
McLemore's writing is so rich, dark dark chocolate, that I had to read slow to take it all in and read only in small bites. She works marvelous metaphors, that make you stop and appreciate them.
I've heard it explained that the difference between "literary" fiction and "mainstream" fiction is that mainstream fiction focuses on story so the methods of telling that story become invisible and you can forget that you're reading, while literary fiction wants you to notice what it's doing. Literary fiction presents its structures and uses of language and says, "Look at this and marvel!" So I think it's interesting that this book has easily accessible characters and plot, which would clip right along like any other YA novel if the language wasn't presented the way it is. It's a really good way to have literary YA.
For generations, the Nomeolvides girls (5 girls in each generation) have tended the garden of La Pradera with their magical abilities to grow flowers. The Nomeolvides are cursed to never leave La Pradera and to have everyone they love vanish. When all five girls realize they're in love with the same girl, they know that their love will kill her, and they offer sacrifices of beloved objects to La Pradera, praying for her safety. In return, La Pradera returns a mysterious boy to them from the dirt, a boy with no memory of where he came from.
McLemore's writing is so rich, dark dark chocolate, that I had to read slow to take it all in and read only in small bites. She works marvelous metaphors, that make you stop and appreciate them.
I've heard it explained that the difference between "literary" fiction and "mainstream" fiction is that mainstream fiction focuses on story so the methods of telling that story become invisible and you can forget that you're reading, while literary fiction wants you to notice what it's doing. Literary fiction presents its structures and uses of language and says, "Look at this and marvel!" So I think it's interesting that this book has easily accessible characters and plot, which would clip right along like any other YA novel if the language wasn't presented the way it is. It's a really good way to have literary YA.
November 29, 2018
I read The Cursed Queen
This week's novel is The Cursed Queen, the sequel to The Imposter Queen by Sarah Fine.
Ansa was raised in a vicious warrior tribe that values bloody raids and make kill marks on their arms to show their status. But when they launch a huge invasion fleet, the witch queen who rules where they were about to invade single-highhandedly destroys everybody. The witch queen also curses Ansa (one of three warriors who survive) to have fire and ice magic that threatens to destroy her tribe when she takes it back to them. Ansa has to keep her curse a secret or be stoned by her tribe as a witch, but with their warriors dead and their old chieftain replaced by his daughter, who everyone thinks is too soft-hearted, a splinter tribe tries to take over and Ansa is sucked into a political game that tests her loyalties.
This book has a different narrator than the first book, an it's set in a different part of the world. The two books are also taking place simultaneously, and it's interesting to see how the two stories intersect. Having read the first one, we know a fair bit more than Ansa--namely that she's not cursed, but rather she's inherited the magic. But it works well, and I never felt like Ansa was stupid for not figuring out what I knew because I'd already read the first book.
In general, I liked how Ansa was portrayed. She was born in the country from the first book, but kidnapped by the raiders and made a member of their tribe, and she has spent her life desperately trying to fit in. So when she tries repeatedly to reject the magic, I understood why she was doing it. Then her new chieftain is talking about changing their ways to survive (farming?! not killing old, unarmed people?!) and the chieftain who wants to take over their tribe is talking about tradition and being glorious in victory, and I understand why it's so hard for Ansa to pick a side. It never felt like she was flip-flopping for the sake of keeping the plot going until she can make a decision and show her loyalty at the climax, but instead it felt like a character flaw rising out of her desire to belong and be accepted and never be weak enough to have her family murdered in front of her again.
And, like the first book, I like how this one is about identity. Is Ansa part of her adoptive culture or the culture she was born into but doesn't remember? Can her tribe change their ways without abandoning who they are? These are questions that so many people wrestle with, just turned up to eleven and with pseudo-Vikings.
***
Next week: Wild Beauty, YA Fantasy by Anna-Marie McLemore
November 22, 2018
I read To All the Boys I've Loved Before
This week's novel is To All the Boys I've Loved Before, by Jenny Han.
When Laura Jean gets crushes on unattainable guys, she writes love letters, spilling out all of her feelings as a way of saying goodbye, and then she stores them away in a hat box. She never means for anyone to read them or for them to ever get sent, but that's exactly what happens. This is more than just regular embarrassing, because one of the letters is to Josh, Laura Jean's sister's long time boyfriend, who she dumped right before going to college and right before the letters got sent. In order for hi to not get any ideas, Laura Jean arranges to have a fake relationship with Peter, who also received one of her letters and who just broke up with his manipulative boyfriend and wants to make it clear he's moved on.
I found a lot to like about this book.
Laura Jean is allowed to be unapologetically feminine. She loves to braid her hair and wear cute clothes and bake cupcakes and scrap book and write notes using fancy pens on special stationary. She does a lot of dreamy-eyed daydreaming. She's not embarrassed about it, the narration isn't poking fun at her for it or implying she's any less of an interesting person. She's not given extra interests that are traditionally coded masculine to make her seem "tougher" or "stronger," while at the same time, it's never implied that she's weak. The fact that I find this so refreshing, makes me a little uncomfortable. Why don't we see this more?
Oh, wait. I know why.
I also found the sister's relationships fascinating. They were good sister relationships, where they squabble and stick up for each other, where they're loyal, but their fights are bitter. That was well done. But what I really liked was how directly their backstory affected their characters and their relationships to each other. Their mother died when they were young, and Margot, the oldest, clearly stepped up to take over the job of mothering. She keeps track of the family's scheduling, she plans and cooks meals, she makes baked goods for school bake sales. So when she leaves for college, the family is a bit of a mess for a while, forgetting about the youngest sister's field trip and such. Meanwhile, Margot is calling home and reminding them to do things they already have on the calendar and telling Laura Jean that junior year is the most important year and she needs to join some extracurriculars and apply for internships.
Laura Jean, on the other hand, has a strand of fear in her that you can trace back to her mother's death. She's too panicky to drive the car. She also has trouble getting close to people, and would rather sigh while pining after boys from afar than really get to know them. She'd rather fake-date Peter because then it's not real, and therefore not scary.
And meanwhile, the youngest sister, who is much younger, and was three when their mother died, has way less baggage than the other two, and really wants a dog.
It's really well done, and I started quietly taking notes.
The last thing I want to talk about are the scene changes. The chapters are all very short, some only a handful of pages. And there aren't many scenes where significant events happen all at once. Laura Jean and Peter will be in the library studying and hell put his head in her lap and she'll shove him off, and she'll feel the flutters, but then the scene will change and she'll be in a class and someone will say something rude. It's not quite a montage, because everything is in scene, and you'll stay in that scene for a full page or two. But the scenes will shift without anything resolving, without Laura Jean having a breakthrough or a definite start or stop to a problem. Furthermore, when they come back together in a different time and place, it's as if friendships get resettled back into their base state. Laura Jean and Peter will snip at each other and she'll be angry that he's not over his ex, but then in the next scene, they'll be ready to drink each other's sodas. The way I'm describing it, it sounds like actions don't have lasting consequences, but I saw it as an accurate portrayal of what it's like to have a friendship at school. You can't have a full conversation in the middle of class. You snip at each other and then you go to Waffle House, because if given a few class periods, you'll get over it or they'll get over it, and even if you're both kinda still mad, it's not going to keep you from Waffle House.
***
Next Week: The Cursed Queen, a sequel to The Imposter Queen, by Sarah Fine.
When Laura Jean gets crushes on unattainable guys, she writes love letters, spilling out all of her feelings as a way of saying goodbye, and then she stores them away in a hat box. She never means for anyone to read them or for them to ever get sent, but that's exactly what happens. This is more than just regular embarrassing, because one of the letters is to Josh, Laura Jean's sister's long time boyfriend, who she dumped right before going to college and right before the letters got sent. In order for hi to not get any ideas, Laura Jean arranges to have a fake relationship with Peter, who also received one of her letters and who just broke up with his manipulative boyfriend and wants to make it clear he's moved on.
I found a lot to like about this book.
Laura Jean is allowed to be unapologetically feminine. She loves to braid her hair and wear cute clothes and bake cupcakes and scrap book and write notes using fancy pens on special stationary. She does a lot of dreamy-eyed daydreaming. She's not embarrassed about it, the narration isn't poking fun at her for it or implying she's any less of an interesting person. She's not given extra interests that are traditionally coded masculine to make her seem "tougher" or "stronger," while at the same time, it's never implied that she's weak. The fact that I find this so refreshing, makes me a little uncomfortable. Why don't we see this more?
Oh, wait. I know why.
I also found the sister's relationships fascinating. They were good sister relationships, where they squabble and stick up for each other, where they're loyal, but their fights are bitter. That was well done. But what I really liked was how directly their backstory affected their characters and their relationships to each other. Their mother died when they were young, and Margot, the oldest, clearly stepped up to take over the job of mothering. She keeps track of the family's scheduling, she plans and cooks meals, she makes baked goods for school bake sales. So when she leaves for college, the family is a bit of a mess for a while, forgetting about the youngest sister's field trip and such. Meanwhile, Margot is calling home and reminding them to do things they already have on the calendar and telling Laura Jean that junior year is the most important year and she needs to join some extracurriculars and apply for internships.
Laura Jean, on the other hand, has a strand of fear in her that you can trace back to her mother's death. She's too panicky to drive the car. She also has trouble getting close to people, and would rather sigh while pining after boys from afar than really get to know them. She'd rather fake-date Peter because then it's not real, and therefore not scary.
And meanwhile, the youngest sister, who is much younger, and was three when their mother died, has way less baggage than the other two, and really wants a dog.
It's really well done, and I started quietly taking notes.
The last thing I want to talk about are the scene changes. The chapters are all very short, some only a handful of pages. And there aren't many scenes where significant events happen all at once. Laura Jean and Peter will be in the library studying and hell put his head in her lap and she'll shove him off, and she'll feel the flutters, but then the scene will change and she'll be in a class and someone will say something rude. It's not quite a montage, because everything is in scene, and you'll stay in that scene for a full page or two. But the scenes will shift without anything resolving, without Laura Jean having a breakthrough or a definite start or stop to a problem. Furthermore, when they come back together in a different time and place, it's as if friendships get resettled back into their base state. Laura Jean and Peter will snip at each other and she'll be angry that he's not over his ex, but then in the next scene, they'll be ready to drink each other's sodas. The way I'm describing it, it sounds like actions don't have lasting consequences, but I saw it as an accurate portrayal of what it's like to have a friendship at school. You can't have a full conversation in the middle of class. You snip at each other and then you go to Waffle House, because if given a few class periods, you'll get over it or they'll get over it, and even if you're both kinda still mad, it's not going to keep you from Waffle House.
***
Next Week: The Cursed Queen, a sequel to The Imposter Queen, by Sarah Fine.
November 15, 2018
I read Muse of Nightmares
This week, I read Muse of Nightmares, the sequel to Strange the Dreamer, by Lani Taylor.
I can't talk about this one without spoiling the first one. If you haven't read Strange the Dreamer, you should go read that instead of this blog post.
Lazlo and Minya are at an impasse, where she wants to use him to wreck vengence on all Weep, using her control over Sarai as a threat, and he wants to protect Weep and is pretty sure Minya won't kill her only bargaining chip. They all realize how very damaged Minya is, both by the trauma of living through the carnage and by the weight her gift places on her, and Sarai sets out to charge her heart and mind.
The first big chunk of this book is very dismal. There's just nothing anyone can do and no good solution. They spend a lot of time replying how awful the situation is. It made for a rough read. I kept getting distracted, because the first chapter of each section is about a completely different group of people: a pair of sisters who dream of being chosen by the blue gods because their dormant amazing gifts are so amazing. They dream of being taken away from their harsh ice village with their horrible step-mother and their horrible jobs butchering walrus-like creatures. It was gripping and I had room to root for them. The A-plot was such a downer that I started flipping ahead and just reading the B plot chapters.
I did like how all the pieces fall into place at the end, all the different story lines coming together. A bunch of secondary characters get developed over the course of the book, so when they use their skills at the end in ways that help the main story, it feels earned, even though a lot of the resolution could have easily felt like a cop out.
I still love Strange the Dreamer, but this sequel was not as striking.
***
Next week: To All the Boys I've Loved Before, YA contemporary romance by Jenny Han
I can't talk about this one without spoiling the first one. If you haven't read Strange the Dreamer, you should go read that instead of this blog post.
Lazlo and Minya are at an impasse, where she wants to use him to wreck vengence on all Weep, using her control over Sarai as a threat, and he wants to protect Weep and is pretty sure Minya won't kill her only bargaining chip. They all realize how very damaged Minya is, both by the trauma of living through the carnage and by the weight her gift places on her, and Sarai sets out to charge her heart and mind.
The first big chunk of this book is very dismal. There's just nothing anyone can do and no good solution. They spend a lot of time replying how awful the situation is. It made for a rough read. I kept getting distracted, because the first chapter of each section is about a completely different group of people: a pair of sisters who dream of being chosen by the blue gods because their dormant amazing gifts are so amazing. They dream of being taken away from their harsh ice village with their horrible step-mother and their horrible jobs butchering walrus-like creatures. It was gripping and I had room to root for them. The A-plot was such a downer that I started flipping ahead and just reading the B plot chapters.
I did like how all the pieces fall into place at the end, all the different story lines coming together. A bunch of secondary characters get developed over the course of the book, so when they use their skills at the end in ways that help the main story, it feels earned, even though a lot of the resolution could have easily felt like a cop out.
I still love Strange the Dreamer, but this sequel was not as striking.
***
Next week: To All the Boys I've Loved Before, YA contemporary romance by Jenny Han
November 8, 2018
I read Charmed Life
This week's novel is Charmed Life by Diana Wynne Jones. This was on a recommendation list for books about magic schools, and Howl's Moving Castle, another of Jones' books is one of my favorites, so I thought I should check this out.
Cat's older sister Gwendolen is a talented witch, so when their parents die and they're eventually whisked off to live with Chrestomanci, the rich and talented wizard, she thinks she'll finally get the attention, respect, and power she deserves. Cat is just homesick. But when Chrestomanci refuses to let Gwendolyn use magic, and she sets out on a series of daily magical pranks to get attention, things get even more difficult for Cat, who's put in the middle of trying to appease his sister and trying to fit into his new home.
I really liked the first half or so of this book, because Gwendolen's siege against Chrestomanci, trying to get a rise out of him, felt real to the kind of crap a kid would pull who has just lost her parents, and then been displaced from her home. It felt like she just needed some attention, even if that attention was punishment. If she gets in trouble, at least the adults in charge are noticing her.
I also liked how Cat is the devoted underachiever, and that he loves his sister even if she's being a pill. I liked how his life was structured so that "Gwendolyn is going to do great things, and I'm not" is a fact that's never questioned or resented. That felt real too. It also felt real that he struggles so hard with standing up to her, and that he wished she'd calm down so he could make friends with the other kids at Chrestomanci's castle. He just wanted to play in the tree house, but his sister needs him to help her make giant spider monsters so she can disrupt Chrestomanci's dinner party.
So I'm pretty disappointed that the ending ruins all of that. I was expecting Gwendolen to have a sobbing breakdown where she admits she only wants love and misses her parents and is trying so hard to be the great witch everyone back home expects from her and it's difficult do deal with the realization that she was a big fish in a little pond. I was expecting Cat to realize he had his own power, and to move out from under Gwendolyn's shadow, and for Gwendolen to realize that she'd been overbearing. That would have been a more emotionally satisfying book for me.
That is not what happens. In fact, what happens has to be summed up at the end in true Jones style with Chrestomanci explaining everything while everyone has tea.
I did like the hints at the mystery that are strung along through the book. They were enough for the reader to know there were things afoot, but not enough for me to piece it all together myself. It was also reasonable that Cat, after hearing these clues, wouldn't have his interest piqued by them and investigate them to their conclusion. Jones does this all very well.
As a warning, this was written in the seventies, and there are a couple moments of weird racism just dropped in for no reason. All the instances are so brief that if the lines were cut, the story wouldn't lose anything but racism, but it was the seventies, so no editor cared. It's really more jarring than anything else.
Next week: The Muse of Nightmares, the sequel to Strange the Dreamer, by Lani Taylor.
Cat's older sister Gwendolen is a talented witch, so when their parents die and they're eventually whisked off to live with Chrestomanci, the rich and talented wizard, she thinks she'll finally get the attention, respect, and power she deserves. Cat is just homesick. But when Chrestomanci refuses to let Gwendolyn use magic, and she sets out on a series of daily magical pranks to get attention, things get even more difficult for Cat, who's put in the middle of trying to appease his sister and trying to fit into his new home.
I really liked the first half or so of this book, because Gwendolen's siege against Chrestomanci, trying to get a rise out of him, felt real to the kind of crap a kid would pull who has just lost her parents, and then been displaced from her home. It felt like she just needed some attention, even if that attention was punishment. If she gets in trouble, at least the adults in charge are noticing her.
I also liked how Cat is the devoted underachiever, and that he loves his sister even if she's being a pill. I liked how his life was structured so that "Gwendolyn is going to do great things, and I'm not" is a fact that's never questioned or resented. That felt real too. It also felt real that he struggles so hard with standing up to her, and that he wished she'd calm down so he could make friends with the other kids at Chrestomanci's castle. He just wanted to play in the tree house, but his sister needs him to help her make giant spider monsters so she can disrupt Chrestomanci's dinner party.
So I'm pretty disappointed that the ending ruins all of that. I was expecting Gwendolen to have a sobbing breakdown where she admits she only wants love and misses her parents and is trying so hard to be the great witch everyone back home expects from her and it's difficult do deal with the realization that she was a big fish in a little pond. I was expecting Cat to realize he had his own power, and to move out from under Gwendolyn's shadow, and for Gwendolen to realize that she'd been overbearing. That would have been a more emotionally satisfying book for me.
That is not what happens. In fact, what happens has to be summed up at the end in true Jones style with Chrestomanci explaining everything while everyone has tea.
I did like the hints at the mystery that are strung along through the book. They were enough for the reader to know there were things afoot, but not enough for me to piece it all together myself. It was also reasonable that Cat, after hearing these clues, wouldn't have his interest piqued by them and investigate them to their conclusion. Jones does this all very well.
As a warning, this was written in the seventies, and there are a couple moments of weird racism just dropped in for no reason. All the instances are so brief that if the lines were cut, the story wouldn't lose anything but racism, but it was the seventies, so no editor cared. It's really more jarring than anything else.
Next week: The Muse of Nightmares, the sequel to Strange the Dreamer, by Lani Taylor.
October 11, 2018
I read Leviathan Wakes
This week's novel is Leviathan Wakes
by James S.A. Corey.
I'd heard good things about The Expanse TV show, but at first, I didn't have access to it. Recently someone told me that the first couple seasons were on Amazon Prime, and I settled in to watch it. It might be a combination of my TV, my air conditioner, and the dialects that the characters have, but I can not hear a single word anyone is saying on that show. I turned the first couple episode up really loud and then I turned on the subtitles for the third episode, and then I realized that I didn't know anyone's name or what they were talking about, and if I was going to read the whole thing, I might as well track down the book. So thanks, Chicago Public Library!
In the future, a large portion of the solar system has been colonized, with Earth and Mars in an uneasy peace and people from the asteroid belt treated like second class citizens and reliant on Earth and Mars for resources. Detective Miller of Ceres is given a case of tracking down a girl named Julie, who has been hanging around with asteroid belt rebels, and whose rich dad wants her kidnapped and shipped back to Earth. Turns out Julie's ship was attacked in transit and the wreckage was found by a water tanker, which was promptly nuked by a stealth ship using technology from Mars. This sets off events that lead to armed conflict between the belt, Mars, and Earth, and through it all, Miller is trying to find Julie.
I get why this was made into a TV show. There are about a dozen set-piece action sequences, where a ship explodes or a riot happens or there's a space battle or they have to escape through a platoon of marines or zombies attack. It's a little exhausting to read in large chunks, but if you take a break after every episode, it's fun, even when you know there's still 15% of the book left and at least two more horrible things are going to happen.
I like how long the space travel takes. A couple of weeks pass between destinations, which feels genuine to the massive distances while at the same time putting us in the future where those distances are possible. It doesn't make traveling too easy, often emphasizing that if they're accelerating at 3 g, it means they spend the trip strapped in. The book does a good job of not dwelling on the boring transits while still conveying that time has passed.
I also just really like stories where colonizers on Mars end up fighting with Earth. I think it's the residual love for Babylon 5 that will never wash off.
I realized a little way into this book that it was written by a white dude, and I haven't read a book written by a white dude in a while. Parts of it felt a jarring after not experiencing them in a while, and I find it refreshing to think about how I could go so long without reading a book by a white guy that that could happen. There really isn't anything wrong with it, it's just that the two point of view characters are both men, and there are scant few female characters, and there is an awful lot of talk about balls. Having balls in high gs sounds awful. Thanks, book, for drawing this to my attention. That kind of detail probably wouldn't make it into a book written by a woman, and that's why representation is important.
***
Next week: a book not written by a dude. The Power, sci-fi where women take over the world, by Naomi Alderman.
I'd heard good things about The Expanse TV show, but at first, I didn't have access to it. Recently someone told me that the first couple seasons were on Amazon Prime, and I settled in to watch it. It might be a combination of my TV, my air conditioner, and the dialects that the characters have, but I can not hear a single word anyone is saying on that show. I turned the first couple episode up really loud and then I turned on the subtitles for the third episode, and then I realized that I didn't know anyone's name or what they were talking about, and if I was going to read the whole thing, I might as well track down the book. So thanks, Chicago Public Library!
In the future, a large portion of the solar system has been colonized, with Earth and Mars in an uneasy peace and people from the asteroid belt treated like second class citizens and reliant on Earth and Mars for resources. Detective Miller of Ceres is given a case of tracking down a girl named Julie, who has been hanging around with asteroid belt rebels, and whose rich dad wants her kidnapped and shipped back to Earth. Turns out Julie's ship was attacked in transit and the wreckage was found by a water tanker, which was promptly nuked by a stealth ship using technology from Mars. This sets off events that lead to armed conflict between the belt, Mars, and Earth, and through it all, Miller is trying to find Julie.
I get why this was made into a TV show. There are about a dozen set-piece action sequences, where a ship explodes or a riot happens or there's a space battle or they have to escape through a platoon of marines or zombies attack. It's a little exhausting to read in large chunks, but if you take a break after every episode, it's fun, even when you know there's still 15% of the book left and at least two more horrible things are going to happen.
I like how long the space travel takes. A couple of weeks pass between destinations, which feels genuine to the massive distances while at the same time putting us in the future where those distances are possible. It doesn't make traveling too easy, often emphasizing that if they're accelerating at 3 g, it means they spend the trip strapped in. The book does a good job of not dwelling on the boring transits while still conveying that time has passed.
I also just really like stories where colonizers on Mars end up fighting with Earth. I think it's the residual love for Babylon 5 that will never wash off.
I realized a little way into this book that it was written by a white dude, and I haven't read a book written by a white dude in a while. Parts of it felt a jarring after not experiencing them in a while, and I find it refreshing to think about how I could go so long without reading a book by a white guy that that could happen. There really isn't anything wrong with it, it's just that the two point of view characters are both men, and there are scant few female characters, and there is an awful lot of talk about balls. Having balls in high gs sounds awful. Thanks, book, for drawing this to my attention. That kind of detail probably wouldn't make it into a book written by a woman, and that's why representation is important.
***
Next week: a book not written by a dude. The Power, sci-fi where women take over the world, by Naomi Alderman.
October 4, 2018
I read The Belles
This week's novel is The Belles, by Dhonielle Clayton.
In a world where everyone is born with gray skin and red eyes, a set of magical girls, called belles, can change people's appearance to make them beautiful for a price. Camellia has worked her whole life towards being skilled enough to be The Favorite, the belle assigned to the royal family, who sets beauty standards across the country. When she finally reaches that goal, she finds that the position is way more dangerous than she'd ever thought.
I have a couple warnings to start with if you're thinking of reading this book. 1. There are egregious examples of bury your gays. You read that right, "examples" is plural. 2. There's a series of headlines, just several in a list, and one of them mentions a trans person. Somehow in that single headline and single mention in the entire book, it still manages to misgender them.
I'm not in the mood to find stuff I liked about this one.
This book did not dive into the themes set up in the premise as much as I was hoping for. This story seems like fertile ground to talk about how arbitrary it is that some features are considered beautiful and some aren't. Especially given that the main character is a person of color, whose skin tone and hair texture are, in modern American culture, considered undesirable. Since there isn't race in this fantastical society, Camellia's skin tone is treated as just a variant on a theme, and--heck--let's get into that! But no. The premise also seems like fertile ground for discussing how only the wealthy can afford the treatments to make them beautiful, while the poor are gray, red-eyed troll people. Do the gray, red-eyed troll people think they're ugly, because they're told they are every day? Do the wealthy look down on them? Has anyone tried to make a fashion statement by having openly gray skin? Being beautiful is something mandated by the Goddess they worship, so what does it mean that they're charging people to obey the goddess' mandate? We don't know. It's not important.
Instead, the book focuses on how the princess, who will probably inherit the throne, is a cartoon villain, and Camilla needs to stop her/do everything she says.
I was even expecting for the beauty standards of this world to be bizarre and engaging. If you're starting from gray, why wouldn't people have blue skin and three eyes and hair that sticks straight up in the air? I was expecting full on Capital from the Hunger Games, and although there are blips of weirdness, the book never lets loose with it. And that makes the moments of weirdness confusing. Are they supposed to be weird?
"The wardrobe opens and the interior explodes with color. Dresses with full skirts, A-line cuts, empire waists, sheaths, long sleeves, cap sleeves, no sleeves, V-necks and scoop necks and plunging necklines. Dresses made of brocades, laces, velvets, glass beads, cashmeres, silks, and pastel satins in every color and pattern. Special carts follow the wardrobe, carrying vivant dresses inside large glass bell jars. These are dresses made of living things. Butterflies open and close their wings, exposing their dress's inner rib cage. Honeybees buzz in and out of a honeycomb-shaped gown. Roses of every color wave their petals." I can picture everything but the honeybee dress, which seems wildly out of place. Then on the next page, there's this: "I'm wearing one of the Fashion Minister's latest creations--a honey-and-marigold bustle dress with a waffle texture and a waist-sash of striped fur." Is...that pretty? Does Camilla think it's pretty? To me, it doesn't sound stunning or wild, just...unpleasant.
That's a problem I've been encountering a lot. If a setting or a dress is described and none of the characters give their opinion on it, sometimes I can't tell if the reader is supposed to be awed or think, "Wow, that's tacky." Maybe it's because I read this book right after Crazy Rich Asians, which does a similar thing, but the point is supposed to be that--yep--that's pretty tacky.
***
Next week, I'll be in a better mood with Leviathan Wakes, space opera by James S.A. Corey.
In a world where everyone is born with gray skin and red eyes, a set of magical girls, called belles, can change people's appearance to make them beautiful for a price. Camellia has worked her whole life towards being skilled enough to be The Favorite, the belle assigned to the royal family, who sets beauty standards across the country. When she finally reaches that goal, she finds that the position is way more dangerous than she'd ever thought.
I have a couple warnings to start with if you're thinking of reading this book. 1. There are egregious examples of bury your gays. You read that right, "examples" is plural. 2. There's a series of headlines, just several in a list, and one of them mentions a trans person. Somehow in that single headline and single mention in the entire book, it still manages to misgender them.
I'm not in the mood to find stuff I liked about this one.
This book did not dive into the themes set up in the premise as much as I was hoping for. This story seems like fertile ground to talk about how arbitrary it is that some features are considered beautiful and some aren't. Especially given that the main character is a person of color, whose skin tone and hair texture are, in modern American culture, considered undesirable. Since there isn't race in this fantastical society, Camellia's skin tone is treated as just a variant on a theme, and--heck--let's get into that! But no. The premise also seems like fertile ground for discussing how only the wealthy can afford the treatments to make them beautiful, while the poor are gray, red-eyed troll people. Do the gray, red-eyed troll people think they're ugly, because they're told they are every day? Do the wealthy look down on them? Has anyone tried to make a fashion statement by having openly gray skin? Being beautiful is something mandated by the Goddess they worship, so what does it mean that they're charging people to obey the goddess' mandate? We don't know. It's not important.
Instead, the book focuses on how the princess, who will probably inherit the throne, is a cartoon villain, and Camilla needs to stop her/do everything she says.
I was even expecting for the beauty standards of this world to be bizarre and engaging. If you're starting from gray, why wouldn't people have blue skin and three eyes and hair that sticks straight up in the air? I was expecting full on Capital from the Hunger Games, and although there are blips of weirdness, the book never lets loose with it. And that makes the moments of weirdness confusing. Are they supposed to be weird?
"The wardrobe opens and the interior explodes with color. Dresses with full skirts, A-line cuts, empire waists, sheaths, long sleeves, cap sleeves, no sleeves, V-necks and scoop necks and plunging necklines. Dresses made of brocades, laces, velvets, glass beads, cashmeres, silks, and pastel satins in every color and pattern. Special carts follow the wardrobe, carrying vivant dresses inside large glass bell jars. These are dresses made of living things. Butterflies open and close their wings, exposing their dress's inner rib cage. Honeybees buzz in and out of a honeycomb-shaped gown. Roses of every color wave their petals." I can picture everything but the honeybee dress, which seems wildly out of place. Then on the next page, there's this: "I'm wearing one of the Fashion Minister's latest creations--a honey-and-marigold bustle dress with a waffle texture and a waist-sash of striped fur." Is...that pretty? Does Camilla think it's pretty? To me, it doesn't sound stunning or wild, just...unpleasant.
That's a problem I've been encountering a lot. If a setting or a dress is described and none of the characters give their opinion on it, sometimes I can't tell if the reader is supposed to be awed or think, "Wow, that's tacky." Maybe it's because I read this book right after Crazy Rich Asians, which does a similar thing, but the point is supposed to be that--yep--that's pretty tacky.
***
Next week, I'll be in a better mood with Leviathan Wakes, space opera by James S.A. Corey.
September 27, 2018
I Read Crazy Rich Asians
This week's novel is Crazy Rich Asians by
Kevin Kwan. I've been hearing all sorts of good things about the movie
and decided to check out the book.
Rachel Chu, an economics professor in New York agrees to go with her boyfriend, Nick, to his home in Singapore for his best friend's wedding and to meet Nick's family. Nick does not warn her that his family to filthy rich and Rachel gets swept into decadent homes and ostentatious parties full of people who think Rachel is a gold digger and are determined to break them up.
This is a silly book.
It doesn't really have an end. There's several characters who we are following, who each have their own arcs that ramp in intensity. But instead of the usual rom-com ending where there's a definite happy bow put on the end that ties everything up, in this one, they all get to places where you can see where they'll go from here and then the book doesn't waste your time showing it to you. Two of the story lines have very obvious parallels, but the book ends without any of the characters realizing it or learning from each other. In many ways, it feels like a fizzle. It feels like things happened, and I read about them and was entertained, and then it was over.
And I think that's the point. This book is much more "Look at these weirdos!" and "What a whacky situation!" than it is about characters learning and growing and coming together.
That comes through in the descriptions too. There are are sooooo many descriptions of buildings and decor and houses and planes and cars and jewelry, which all go to show how much money is being spent on everything, but sometimes you have to stop and ask if it's classy or supposed to be classy, if a dress is beautiful or if a fancy dinner would taste good. Sometimes, the answer is clearly that the people have money but not taste so they're just flaunting their wealth. But then other times there are people who look down on those who are flaunting their wealth, only for their bathroom to be described and for me to squint and ask if that's supposed to be classy. Is any of this supposed to be classy? The lines start to blur. This is the heart of the novel, so the book's ending is just another moment of strangeness.
I don't think they could get away with it in a movie. I wonder what they did. Don't tell me.
***
Next week: The Belles, YA magical beauty standards, by Dhonielle Clayton.
Rachel Chu, an economics professor in New York agrees to go with her boyfriend, Nick, to his home in Singapore for his best friend's wedding and to meet Nick's family. Nick does not warn her that his family to filthy rich and Rachel gets swept into decadent homes and ostentatious parties full of people who think Rachel is a gold digger and are determined to break them up.
This is a silly book.
It doesn't really have an end. There's several characters who we are following, who each have their own arcs that ramp in intensity. But instead of the usual rom-com ending where there's a definite happy bow put on the end that ties everything up, in this one, they all get to places where you can see where they'll go from here and then the book doesn't waste your time showing it to you. Two of the story lines have very obvious parallels, but the book ends without any of the characters realizing it or learning from each other. In many ways, it feels like a fizzle. It feels like things happened, and I read about them and was entertained, and then it was over.
And I think that's the point. This book is much more "Look at these weirdos!" and "What a whacky situation!" than it is about characters learning and growing and coming together.
That comes through in the descriptions too. There are are sooooo many descriptions of buildings and decor and houses and planes and cars and jewelry, which all go to show how much money is being spent on everything, but sometimes you have to stop and ask if it's classy or supposed to be classy, if a dress is beautiful or if a fancy dinner would taste good. Sometimes, the answer is clearly that the people have money but not taste so they're just flaunting their wealth. But then other times there are people who look down on those who are flaunting their wealth, only for their bathroom to be described and for me to squint and ask if that's supposed to be classy. Is any of this supposed to be classy? The lines start to blur. This is the heart of the novel, so the book's ending is just another moment of strangeness.
I don't think they could get away with it in a movie. I wonder what they did. Don't tell me.
***
Next week: The Belles, YA magical beauty standards, by Dhonielle Clayton.
September 20, 2018
I Read Crooked Kingdom
Wow, I got very far behind writing these up. Mea culpa. Hopefully by the end of the day, I'll have the next month queued up.
This week's novel is Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo. This is the Sequel to Six of Crows, which I read a while back.
The team has to rescue Inej, who was captured at the end of the last book, and then they must take their revenge on Van Ek, get paid for the job they pulled in the last book, and help a bunch of Grisha get out of town before they're kidnapped by super soldiers created by the Shu. Multiple complex heists ensue!
I was impressed by the ensemble cast and the complicated heist of the last book, and those certainly continued in the second half of this duology. I got to know the characters enough to celebrate their growth and cheer for their moments of triumph. (Jesper gets this moment...it's so good. I'm still pumped about it.)
But there's an added layer to this second book, because as the characters grow to rely on and trust one another, a sadness and uncertainty is built into the story, because if the plans all go perfectly, the team members will go their separate ways and never see each other again. When they hated each other, this wasn't a problem, but now they've been through a lot. It reminds me a bit of the last few weeks of senior year in high school, when everyone was excited to leave and start their lives, but with that came the looming realization that friendships weren't going to be as strong and many wouldn't survive. This was like that, only maybe they would die or be tortured, and also the city where they all cut their teeth is way more horrible than a high school. And yet they were still a little sad to leave.
This book also had an added layer in that they each had to make something of themselves. In the last book, they all thought that the money from the pay off would fix all their problems. It would pay off their debts and get them out of indentured servitude and get them passage back to their various homelands. In this one, the money would still do all that, but they also needed to step up emotionally. Nina, the drug addicted Grisha, has to accept that her powers will never be the same and she'll never be the same. Matthias has to get over his biases against Grisha, rather than the "love the sinner, hate the sin thing" he had going on at the end of the last book. Jesper has to get out of debt to save the family farm, but he also has to accept that his gambling addiction got him in debt in the first place, and he needs to work on that. Wylan needs to get away from his abusive father, but he also needs to accept that his father was wrong and Wylan has worth.
***
Next week: Crazy Rich Asians, a rom-com set in obscene wealth in Singapore, by Kevin Kwan.
This week's novel is Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo. This is the Sequel to Six of Crows, which I read a while back.
The team has to rescue Inej, who was captured at the end of the last book, and then they must take their revenge on Van Ek, get paid for the job they pulled in the last book, and help a bunch of Grisha get out of town before they're kidnapped by super soldiers created by the Shu. Multiple complex heists ensue!
I was impressed by the ensemble cast and the complicated heist of the last book, and those certainly continued in the second half of this duology. I got to know the characters enough to celebrate their growth and cheer for their moments of triumph. (Jesper gets this moment...it's so good. I'm still pumped about it.)
But there's an added layer to this second book, because as the characters grow to rely on and trust one another, a sadness and uncertainty is built into the story, because if the plans all go perfectly, the team members will go their separate ways and never see each other again. When they hated each other, this wasn't a problem, but now they've been through a lot. It reminds me a bit of the last few weeks of senior year in high school, when everyone was excited to leave and start their lives, but with that came the looming realization that friendships weren't going to be as strong and many wouldn't survive. This was like that, only maybe they would die or be tortured, and also the city where they all cut their teeth is way more horrible than a high school. And yet they were still a little sad to leave.
This book also had an added layer in that they each had to make something of themselves. In the last book, they all thought that the money from the pay off would fix all their problems. It would pay off their debts and get them out of indentured servitude and get them passage back to their various homelands. In this one, the money would still do all that, but they also needed to step up emotionally. Nina, the drug addicted Grisha, has to accept that her powers will never be the same and she'll never be the same. Matthias has to get over his biases against Grisha, rather than the "love the sinner, hate the sin thing" he had going on at the end of the last book. Jesper has to get out of debt to save the family farm, but he also has to accept that his gambling addiction got him in debt in the first place, and he needs to work on that. Wylan needs to get away from his abusive father, but he also needs to accept that his father was wrong and Wylan has worth.
***
Next week: Crazy Rich Asians, a rom-com set in obscene wealth in Singapore, by Kevin Kwan.
August 23, 2018
I read Listen to Your Heart
This week's novel is Listen to Your Heart by Kasie West.
Kate's whole goal in life is to take over her parents' marina on the lake. She thinks of school as the time between lake trips, and she's not excited about how her best friend, Alana, has talked her into taking a podcasting class with her. She's even less excited when she ends up the host of their podcast, and the topic for the year is "advice," and her co-host keeps calling her "Kat." Alana is crushing on a guy named Diego, and Kate is helping her gather information and low level stalk him. So when he starts calling into the podcast for advice about "a girl he likes" it seems like Diego and Alana are going to ride of into the sunset. Highjinks ensue.
This is a cute book. There are several points where I, the reader, said, "Oh no. That's going to be misunderstood." And sure enough. But the cool thing was that even though the book is a series of misunderstandings, the characters all handle their disappointments and confusion really well. You get the impression pretty early on that Diego might be into Kate, but he's friendly enough with Alana that it is kind of hard to tell. He takes what he assumes is Kate turning him down like a champ and doesn't get openly upset about it.
In general, I appreciate how friendly everyone is to each other in this book. Alana and Kate and Diego and Other Guy all hang out and are friendly, even when maybe they all like each other. There's no petty bickering over guys. There's no hard feelings when who really likes who is revealed. They're all friends first and kissy-friends second, and it felt more real to how I remember high school than anything I've read in a while.
Also, what kind of school has a podcasting class? Is this a thing the kids are doing these days? I feel like I missed out. I also like how bad Kate was at podcasting at the beginning, and how she got better and how she took every bit of faint praise as a sign she was horrible. That felt real too.
***
Next week: Crooked Kingdom, the sequel to Six of Crows, by Leigh Bardugo.
Kate's whole goal in life is to take over her parents' marina on the lake. She thinks of school as the time between lake trips, and she's not excited about how her best friend, Alana, has talked her into taking a podcasting class with her. She's even less excited when she ends up the host of their podcast, and the topic for the year is "advice," and her co-host keeps calling her "Kat." Alana is crushing on a guy named Diego, and Kate is helping her gather information and low level stalk him. So when he starts calling into the podcast for advice about "a girl he likes" it seems like Diego and Alana are going to ride of into the sunset. Highjinks ensue.
This is a cute book. There are several points where I, the reader, said, "Oh no. That's going to be misunderstood." And sure enough. But the cool thing was that even though the book is a series of misunderstandings, the characters all handle their disappointments and confusion really well. You get the impression pretty early on that Diego might be into Kate, but he's friendly enough with Alana that it is kind of hard to tell. He takes what he assumes is Kate turning him down like a champ and doesn't get openly upset about it.
In general, I appreciate how friendly everyone is to each other in this book. Alana and Kate and Diego and Other Guy all hang out and are friendly, even when maybe they all like each other. There's no petty bickering over guys. There's no hard feelings when who really likes who is revealed. They're all friends first and kissy-friends second, and it felt more real to how I remember high school than anything I've read in a while.
Also, what kind of school has a podcasting class? Is this a thing the kids are doing these days? I feel like I missed out. I also like how bad Kate was at podcasting at the beginning, and how she got better and how she took every bit of faint praise as a sign she was horrible. That felt real too.
***
Next week: Crooked Kingdom, the sequel to Six of Crows, by Leigh Bardugo.
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